Playing for Laughs
by detectivejigsaw
Summary: Shawn and Gus get reaped into the 50th Hunger Games. Very, VERY AU from the books, fair warning. So probably not even the Arena will be like the one in the books. Also no slash, but potential Shules later. Rated T for violence and dark material.
1. Reaping Day, Hooray

**Apparently nobody else has written one of these crossovers before, at least not in Fanfiction. I have the basic plot line worked out, but am still figuring out the finer details. Hopefully I will have it done before December, when** ** _Psych: The Movie_** **comes out (happy dance).**

 **As usual, I apologize for incongruities, inconsistencies, OOC moments, etc.**

* * *

It was Reaping Day in District 12 (you saw that coming, didn't you?).

What you probably didn't see coming, though, was that this was the fiftieth year of the Hunger Games, and a Quarter Quell, meaning that something "special" would happen in the way of forcing a bunch of kids to kill each other-namely, there would be twice the number of tributes this year. Two boys, two girls from each district.

And I'm most definitely sure that you didn't see coming the bloodcurdling screams emanating from one of the houses in the Seam of District 12, down by the forest.

* * *

Shawn Spencer gave a frustrated grunt as he tugged on his best friend, trying to pry him loose from the door frame he was currently wedged in.

"Gus, come on, we need to do this."

"No no no no no!" Gus wailed, bracing his hands against the wood and digging in his heels for all he was worth. "They're gonna pick me I know it please Shawn I don't wanna die-"

"You're not gonna die! Your name's only in there like, ten times!"

"That's more than enough!"

Originally, Gus's parents had not allowed him to take tesserae, no matter how hungry they were, because they didn't want to risk losing their precious baby anymore than they had to. It was only last year that Gus had finally put his foot down and told them that 1) he refused to let his family starve if he could do something to prevent it, and 2) he was going to take tesserae whether they liked it or not. Shawn had been both proud and afraid for him for being willing to do that; right now, though, he was just exasperated.

"Gus-" he grunted, and gave another tug on his friend's waist- "the Peacekeepers are gonna come and take action if you don't go. They'll punish your mom and dad, or drag you out into the square and publicly humiliate your family. You gotta come with me now."

It seemed to be working; Gus was starting to release the tension in his arms. Then he paused again. "But-but maybe I could-"

At that point, though, his older sister Joy finally decided that enough was enough. She stormed over, blue dress swooshing around her calves, and grabbed her brother by the collar.

"Burton Guster, you are going out there and you are not going to hide in here like a baby and shame our family, do you understand me?!"

Gus let go of the door slowly, gave her a solemn nod. "Yes, Joy."

"Good." She fluffed her hair, and then noticed the look Shawn was giving her. "What?"

Shawn gave her a half grin, half leer. "You're so hot when you're being stern."

Emotions swished across Joy's face, looking somewhere between annoyed and flattered, before she finally glared. "Don't objectify me, Shawn." And she flounced out the front door.

Shawn smiled smugly-until he noticed Gus was glaring at him too, his previous fear forgotten for the moment.

"Just giving her a compliment."

His friend stalked past him. "Whatever, Shawn."

* * *

Everyone in the District had gathered in the square, wearing their nicest clothes and for once not being coated in coal dust. Shawn and the Gusters walked close together, until Joy had to go to her section of older girls. The boys got to stay in the same group of sixteen-year-olds, and were both rather relieved that they got to stand side by side in unspoken moral support.

As soon as everyone was settled, their escort stepped onto the stage, wearing a lime green suit and with his hair dyed a bright shade of white, making him blinding to look at in direct sunlight.

"Happy Hunger Games, District 12," growled Harris Trout.

Shawn squinted at him; he really didn't want to be there, despite the smile he was wearing. It was too insincere, veering more towards a grimace, despite the fact that escorts were supposed to always have a 'peppy' attitude towards their districts. Odds were he'd rather be back at the Capitol, or one of the wealthier districts, where there were more winners available. He'd probably been sent here because he'd done something to displease the president. Served him right; Trout was one of the most disagreeable, nasty people Shawn had ever encountered, and he was paranoid to crown it off. In a way, he was like District 12's only living victor, only more so.

Without further ado or anymore BS small talk, Trout just reached into one of the bowls on the table, the one with the girl's names in it. He unfolded a paper, squinted at it, and then read it aloud: "Gina Repach."

Shawn felt his stomach twist; he wasn't exactly fond of Gina, because her attitude towards him was at times a little creepy, but it wasn't like he wanted her dead either.

Gina stepped up onto the stage, and-giving credit where it's due-looking quite resolute. Trout gave her a cursory glance, and then pulled out the new name.

"Abigail Lytar."

That name caused more of a twist, as did the obvious horror in her eyes as she was led up next to Gina. Shawn had always thought Abigail was pretty cute-and if he was honest with himself, he was interested in her for more than just her looks, even if he hadn't ever worked up the nerve to say so. She was about the second person he wouldn't want to watch die in the Games.

He could feel Gus shaking next to him, trying to contain his emotions and not freak out in front of everyone because of the suspense-

Trout pulled out the first name for the boys, unwrapped it, and read, "Burton Guster."

And there was the first person.

* * *

Through the horror and the ringing in his ears, Shawn could see Gus glaring at him, as if it were somehow his fault that against the odds of all the other people's names who were in that bowl, his had been the unlucky one. Shawn knew he didn't mean it that way, that it was just the shock. And sure enough, after a moment Gus was, despite the deep brown color of his skin, looking absolutely ashen as the boys around them started to clear a path to let him go up the stairs to his doom.

 _No._

A few seconds later, Shawn was raising his hand and shouting, "I volunteer!"

There was a sort of collective gasp from everyone around, Gus included. He grabbed Shawn's arm and shook his head frantically, a sort of pleading _No Shawn don't do this_.

Shawn gently pushed him away, allowing the Peacekeepers to appear at his sides, lead him up onto the stage. It was only while they did so that he finally realized, _Oh crap what did I just do Dad is going to kill me_.

Trout gave him an appraising glare as he stepped up. "Who're you?"

He cleared his throat, managed to give everyone his most charming smile as he announced, "Shawn Spencer."

"So why did you volunteer, Shawn?" His tone of voice implied that he might as well have replaced his name with 'loser.'

"That's my best friend out there who you picked. And sorry, but I can't let you take him away; he's got a family who needs him-"

"Yeah, whatever, kid." Trout turned back to the bowl, and started digging around for the next name.

Shawn finally saw his dad, standing at the back of the crowd. He wasn't hard to find: the sun shone off his head as easily as it did off Trout's hair. Surprisingly, the look on his face wasn't anything like Shawn expected; instead of his "what have you gotten yourself into now you idiot" look that came whenever Shawn had narrowly escaped being whipped in the town square or similar escapades...if he didn't know any better he'd say that Henry Spencer looked...anguished. Shawn raised his arm and gave him a tiny wave.

Then he saw the paper unfolded in Trout's hands-and to his shock, Trout smiled thinly and said, "Looks like this isn't your lucky day...Burton Guster."

Until this point, Shawn hadn't exactly registered what he'd just done. All he'd known was that he couldn't let Gus be taken away to die in the Games, and that he had to protect him somehow, any how. The horror of what he was setting himself up for would probably have come in later, but he would have had the satisfaction of knowing his best friend was safe.

But now, as he watched Gus climb up by his side, looking like he was about to start either puking or crying, a few black spots swam before his eyes.

They were both being taken to the Games.

And he had sacrificed himself for nothing.

* * *

 **Yes, I know. I am evil. Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha.**

 **Stay tuned for the next chapter in this, the amazing _Psych/Hunger Games_ Crossover "Playing for Laughs"!**


	2. Riding the Capitol Express

Things were a blur for Shawn after that, until he found himself sitting on a thick, plush couch in a fancy private room, waiting for anyone who might come to say goodbye to him.

He didn't have to wait long. Suddenly the door was opening, and Henry Spencer was walking in, his expression grim, like it usually was before he lectured his son on some mistake or other.

Shawn looked up at him for a second, and then sighed.

"Okay, before you start chewing me out for being stupid, let's think about this for a minute. I was trying to-"

He didn't expect his father to step forward and envelope him in his arms.

Shawn froze up, before hesitantly wrapping his arms around his father's waist and leaning his head against his chest.

* * *

They stayed like that for at least two minutes, not saying a word. Despite his bewilderment at this display of affection, Shawn decided that he was going to enjoy it regardless. He just closed his eyes, and thought that if this was the last time he'd see his father, it could honestly be a lot worse.

Then Henry spoke.

"You need to come back, Shawn."

Shawn opened his eyes. "Meaning…?"

Without really letting go, Henry maneuvered until he was sitting on the couch next to him. "Don't get killed. While you're there."

Shawn found himself saying sarcastically, "I'll do my best not to." Then, with a frown, "Does that mean you want me to-you know there can be only one Victor-I can't-"

"No, Shawn, I don't want you to-Gus-" Henry scowled in frustration, knowing that hadn't come out right, and that he definitely didn't want his son to be the one to have to kill Gus-or have anyone kill Gus for that matter, but you know. Finally, weakly, he whispered, "Just come back after it's over."

 _Come back to me_ , he didn't say.

Shawn wasn't sure what to make of that either. But he just cleared his throat and asked, "Any other advice?"

Henry looked at him. "Try to get sponsors. And when you first come out into the Cornucopia, don't waste time trying to get anything unless you know for sure it won't slow you down. Just run for it, and try to find shelter, food and water as soon as you can. And remember what you've learned from hunting, the few times you actually paid attention."

Shawn rolled his eyes.

* * *

His father then lifted something out of his pants pocket and offered it to Shawn-appropriately enough, a gold pocket watch.

"You can bring one token to the Games with you. If you want, you can have this."

It looked just like Henry's watch, Shawn noticed. And when he opened it, he saw that the inside was engraved with the words, _Don't Lose. Henry_.

"...When did you get this?"

 _How did you_ afford _this?_

"Mahoney was able to make me a good deal. I was going to give it to you next week as a birthday gift."

"Dad, my birthday was four months ago."

"And it took you four months after you were born to smile at me. So there."

Shawn looked back at the watch. Finally, with a flourish, he put it in his pocket.

"Thanks."

He wanted to ask about Mom, if there was a chance he would see her while he was at the Capitol. But he didn't get a chance.

The door opened again, and the Peacekeepers walked into the room. As soon as they did, Henry stood up, squeezing Shawn's shoulder and then, on an impulse, leaned down and kissed his forehead briefly.

Of course, Henry Spencer had too much personal dignity to let himself be dragged away from his son, regardless of the fact that he might never see him again. He walked out with dignity.

* * *

Shawn wasn't alone again for long. This time, the door opened to reveal Joy, which he really hadn't been expecting.

Of course, he covered his surprise by smiling and asking, "You here to kiss me goodbye?"

As she marched towards him, he stood up and leaned his head forward slightly, invitingly-

 _CRACK!_

A few seconds later, he had fallen back onto the sofa, and was clutching his cheek in shock.

Joy didn't mince words; she leaned forward, and said icily, "If you kill Burton, I will _never_ forgive you."

Shawn was appalled; more than that, he was hurt. How could she think-didn't she see when he'd volunteered for these stupid games in an effort to _protect_ Gus from having to go into them? What had he ever done to her to give her such a low opinion of him?

Joy's eyes, he noticed, were red from crying, and her lips were trembling a little. She must have just been with Gus, had to say goodbye to him…

Shawn was just wondering what to say to somehow salvage this (and maybe get a kiss from her after all), when she turned and walked back out again.

The only other two people Shawn would have expected to come see him off were going to be on the train with him. So he just sat and waited for another few minutes until Trout came to collect him.

* * *

The drive to the train station was silent. Gina and Abigail sat in the back seat, Shawn and Gus in the front, with Trout sitting in the middle seat and eating a Smart Balance bar.

Gus had clearly been crying too; in fact, he was still sniffling a little, and Shawn could guess that as soon as they were alone there was going to be a meltdown. In fact, there would probably be one any moment if he couldn't think of some way to distract Gus, because it wouldn't be a good idea for them to look like easy prey to the other tributes-

And then, as they arrived at the station and clambered out, he found one.

"Lassie!" he cried joyfully, running towards District 12's only surviving victor.

Carlton Lassiter scowled, and as Shawn tried to throw his arms around him, the flat of the hand that wasn't currently strangling a whiskey bottle caught him in the chest and shoved him back hard.

When he was done gasping with pain, Shawn danced back to his side.

"Oh, come on, don't be like that," he said poutily, leaning up against Lassiter's side and batting his eyelashes obnoxiously. "You know you're glad to see us."

"It just figures that the one year I have to deal with twice the amount of idiots, two of them would be you and Guster," Lassiter growled.

"And just think," Gus joined in with a cheeky grin, "you get to have us around all the way to the Capitol, and you have to mentor us, and teach us everything you know about how to win the Games! This is gonna be so much fun!"

Lassiter looked like he was trying to swallow a lemon; he washed it down with a pull on the whiskey.

"Carlton," said Trout contemptuously. "I see you're still drunk."

The other man swallowed, glared at him.

"Harris. I see you're still a disgusting parasite. At least I could sober up if I wanted."

"Ooh, BURN!" Shawn and Gus chorused in unison.

"Granted, it could be considered a little stereotypical of a comeback..." Shawn mused after a second.

"But still, for Lassie, that's a real win!" said Gus.

The two men just glared at both of them, while in the background Shawn noticed that Abigail, despite the circumstances, looked like she was trying not to laugh. He felt a surge of pleasure.

* * *

Gus managed to last through the meal (and ate about half of it, it seemed like), during which Abigail picked at her food, Gina ate as voraciously as the boys, Trout scowled at them all, and Lassiter drank. It wasn't until they were safely ensconced in Shawn's room that Gus buried his face in Shawn's pillow with an unhappy wail.

"I don't wanna _die_ , Shawn!"

"Ssh, ssh, it's okay, you're not-" Shawn realized what he was saying, and fell silent. Because it wasn't like he could in all honesty promise that, could he? But what could he do?

"Gus," he finally said, "it'll be fine. Maybe there's a way we can both come out of this alive."

Gus raised his head up and glared at him. "How, Shawn? How can we possibly both survive a situation where there can only be one Victor?"

Shawn pursed his lips, before finally saying, "I'm still working on that. But I'll figure out something."

"You are going to figure out a way to-" Gus stopped himself before he could say _break the Capitol's rules_ ; after all, there were probably listening devices in this room.

"Have a little faith in me, please." To his surprise, Shawn actually reached out and touched his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

* * *

Eventually Gus fell asleep; even though Shawn had claimed the room as his, he decided to let it go for now. He just sat on the bed next to his friend, lost in thought, considering possible scenarios. Especially because it kept him from freaking out himself.

It would have been so much easier if someone else had been picked after he'd volunteered; not that he wanted to kill anyone, but if maybe Jimmy Nicholls the bully had been the one going into the Arena with him instead, he wouldn't be as upset and worried-

A sudden flash crossed his memory- _Trout's hand, holding Gus's name-Trout's hand going back into the bowl-Trout's hand holding the fresh piece of paper_ -

He nudged Gus in the shoulder, waking him up with a start.

"Gus, when Trout drew your name again, did you see what he did with the old one?"

After blinking sleepily for a moment, Gus frowned. "No, I was kind of distracted by the fact that you had just taken my place and were going to your death." Then his eyes narrowed. "Why?"

For a moment, Shawn considered saying "No reason, go back to sleep." But instead (for once) he found himself telling the truth.

"Neither did I…"

* * *

The boys found Trout in the main lounge, sitting bolt upright on the far end of one of the invitingly plush sofas, wearing a blindfold.

"What do you two want?" he demanded as soon as they stepped in.

Shawn and Gus glanced at each other. "We just thought maybe you could explain something to us," Shawn finally said. "Because I think that when you chose a new name out of the bowl, you just palmed Gus's name in your hand and brought it back out again."

A long pause passed between the three of them. Then Trout asked, "Is that right?"

Shawn nodded, then remembered the man he was talking to couldn't see him. "So I just was wondering what you hoped to gain from doing it."

Trout slowly raised the bottom of the blindfold, and squinted at them.

"If your little theory was correct," he mused, "it would make a great story, wouldn't it?"

While the boys stared at him pop-eyed, he went on, "Two best friends having to potentially fight each other to the death-it'll have the audiences sobbing their eyes out. And the one who created this excellent scenario-well. There's a chance he'd finally get promoted out of the slum he's spent so long being the escort for, and go on to greener pastures."

Trout pulled the blindfold back down with a slight smirk.

"May the odds be ever in your favor, boys."

* * *

 **Again, I apologize for OOC moments. I also wonder if I made Trout too evil, but it kind of works, under the circumstances.**


	3. Wretched Hive of Scum and Villainy

***Enters stage left, smiling sheepishly***

 **Eheh, hey, everyone. I know it's been a long time (seems like I say that a lot sometimes, sorry), but I was kind of distracted by other things, and I needed to do some research to make sure I would do this accurately. I hope this works. And need I remind you again, this is an alternate universe, so any discrepancies with the Hunger Games one are entirely intentional.**

* * *

After returning to Shawn's room, Shawn and Gus thought about what they could do with this information.

Gus's first instinct was to try to tell someone.

But who could they tell?

Gina and Abigail, who couldn't do anything about it?

Lassiter, who not only couldn't do anything about it, but wouldn't care?

Trout himself, who already knew because he was the one responsible?

Each other, especially since they already knew and it would be weird for them to repeat it to each other?

Whoever was driving this train, who was probably much in the same situation as Lassie?

Gus groaned and flopped face-first into Shawn's pillow. "Mmph mph-mph mph MMMMPH mph mph."

Shawn looked down at him. "Sorry, what?"

Gus looked up slowly. "I said, he's gonna get AWAY with it."

Shawn sighed. "Gus, don't be a government-issued jabberjay. We just need to look for the opportune moment to expose him."

"It's probably not gonna save us from the Games, though," Gus grumbled, before slumping back into the pillow and wrapping his arms around it.

And once again, Shawn was unable to think of something to say that could make this better.

* * *

During breakfast the next day, Lassiter put aside the bottle and said, "Okay, let's talk business, boys and girls. What can you do?"

The four kids looked at each other blankly.

Lassiter sighed. "What capabilities do you have that might make you at least somewhat capable of surviving for longer than ten minutes?"

Shawn finally gave him his cheesiest smile. "I'm the resident hopscotch champion of District 12, and an accomplished tenor singer."

"I can tap dance," Gus chimed in.

Gina said boldly, after swallowing some cheesecake, "Gina is strong from lifting many sacks of flour at the bakery."

As she spoke, Shawn visibly flinched from hearing her- _again_ -talking about herself in the third person. Unfortunately, it happened just as she was serving herself another slice of cheesecake, and she gave him an affronted stare for a moment before defiantly shoving a forkful into her mouth.

Lassiter groaned, and looked like he wanted to take another shot of whiskey but was visibly restraining himself. Finally he sighed, "What about you?" as he looked at Abigail.

She chewed her lip for a moment, and then looked up at him. "I...I'm good at languages. And I've been training to be a teacher-"

This time Lassiter didn't bother restraining himself.

After he wiped his mouth on his sleeve, he muttered, "You guys are doomed."

Then he shook himself. "No. _No_. You are going to at least make an effort at fighting to survive, if I have to kill you to make it happen."

His expression dared them to point out the contradiction in that sentence.

With a sigh, Abigail finally asked, "How did you win the Game, Mr. Lassiter?"

"I followed two important rules," he responded. He held up his pointer finger. "One. Get a crossbow, or any other kind of bow." He lifted its neighboring finger. "Two. Shoot anything that moves."

There was a pause as they digested that. Then Shawn raised his hand.

Lassiter gave him a dirty look. "What, Spencer?"

"Does that mean shooting a bunch of innocent leaves and blades of grass? Because I don't think-"

He was suddenly pinned back in his seat by the older man leaning across the table and glaring into his eyes.

" _Anything_ that moves," he growled, eyes glittering with intensity.

"...You've got something right there." One of Shawn's skinny fingers pointed to a spot at the top of his nose. "I think it's-"

"That's a wart, Shawn," said Gus.

"You sure? It's kind of-no, wait, it is a wart. Sorry."

Lassiter was clearly becoming increasingly annoyed at the boy's apparent inability to take the situation seriously, so that by the time Shawn was figuring out that he actually had a wart, it looked like he was seconds away from committing serious bodily harm.

Gus decided it was time to intercede.

"Your rules didn't stop you from getting your leg caught in a bear trap and then falling into a river. Any advice on avoiding that?"

Lassiter almost got whiplash training his glare on the other boy.

"How did you know about that?!"

Gus shrugged innocently. "My dad remembers seeing it happen."

A few muscles twitched in Lassiter's face, before he finally growled, "Look where you're walking."

* * *

"It might have helped to tell him about your dad's lessons, Shawn," Gus said after they finally escaped. Even though they'd scanned the room several times for any potential bugs, it seemed safer to use code words for those hunting trips Henry had taken them on; no sense getting him in trouble.

Shawn snorted. "The walls have ears, Gus. Besides, he's had those lessons too."

He'd recognized that some of the calluses on Lassiter's hands were from frequent use of a crossbow and hunting knife. And despite the big fancy house that was now his, he had a pretty decent tan that came from being outdoors often. Plus, he'd seen Lassiter out in the woods one time, stalking a deer or something. He suspected it was a coping mechanism that the older man used when he wasn't drinking.

Gus narrowed his eyes at him. "We should probably tell him about it at some point. He knows what he's doing; he's supposed to help us."

Another snort. "Yeah, because he's _so_ invested in our welfare. If there's any chance of our surviving this, we're gonna have to handle everything ourselves."

* * *

By the time they reached the Capitol, they were no closer to figuring out either how to both survive the Games or punish Trout for his dirty trick. Or if Shawn was, he wasn't sharing because he wanted to preserve the dramatic effect; Gus wouldn't put it past him. So he consoled himself by watching the landscape change the farther they got from District 12, and getting his stomach used to the new, rich food it was being allowed to intake. He was particularly fond of this one rich sliced pineapple dish that was crusted with sugar on top.

Shawn, in the interim, may have spent some time flirting like mad with the girls.

Okay, mostly Abigail.

Only Abigail, but Gina may have misinterpreted some of his compliments as being aimed at her.

He soothed his conscience by telling it that there was a strong chance they were going to die soon, and he'd always liked Abigail a little so why shouldn't he try to enjoy this time with her? Maybe if he was lucky he'd get to make out with her a few times. He tried to ignore the voice in his head which sounded a lot like his father, telling him that he was taking advantage of a young girl's vulnerability. It helped that she responded to him eagerly enough.

Once they actually pulled into the Capitol station in the late afternoon, Lassiter told the group of kids, "You're going to be taken to your stylists now. Let them do whatever they want to you-no arguing."

"But-" Gus started to protest, before a finger jabbing into his chest shut him up.

"No. Arguing." Lassiter lowered his hand and marched off the train.

Shawn patted Gus's arm reassuringly.

"Relax, how bad could it be?"

* * *

 _I should have known better than to ask._

Gus's heart-rending screams could be heard from all the way down the hall.

 _You'd think he'd never been stripped naked and had a group of people rip all his body hair off before._

The fact that Shawn had a cushion clenched between his teeth and was suppressing little pained shrieks of his own into it made his thought processes a little hypocritical, but at least he wasn't trying to escape, which it sounded like Gus was doing.

"Ooh, sounds like your friend's going to have to get sedated," said one of Shawn's prep team, a tall man named Buzz. His short black hair was highlighted with dark blue and purple tints, and his eyes were lined with black stuff that curled up at the ends, which Shawn remembered Gus telling him was a fashion used by some people called Egyptians hundred of years ago or something.*

Buzz gave Shawn an apologetic smile as he waxed off another hunk of hair from his leg. "I know you tried to take his place during the Reaping; my wife says she'd never cried so hard when you both got pulled in anyway."

Another prep guy (prepper? Was that a word? Shawn decided he didn't care-it sounded good enough), Whip, adjusted the collar of his turtleneck before combing back Shawn's hair and sniffed. "Yes, it was quite a tragic moment. All we need to make it a perfect level of drama is for you to end up having to murder each other just like in the 10th Hunger Games."

Shawn blinked and looked up at him, taking the cushion out of his mouth. "Sorry, what?"

Whip looked disturbingly smug. "Oh yes, I've done extensive research of all the previous Hunger Games, especially after I found out that you two were going to be forced into them together. In the 10th year two best friends were Reaped into them-though it was a boy and a girl, of course, there were only two tributes-and they decided to die together right at the beginning rather than be forced to live with one of them being the Victor at the other's expense." He dabbed at the edge of one of his eyes, which were decorated to look like two scarlet tears were running from each of them. The overall effect was somewhat grisly, in Shawn's opinion. "Quite a tragedy, but so beautiful."

Down the hall, the screaming and crashing noises were abruptly cut off.

"That's better!" said Buzz with a smile. "Maybe now we can get you looking presentable in peace."

"Though I must say, your hair is just perfect," purred Missy, the only female member of the prep team, and the one with the least amount of adornment, as she finished scrubbing his nails. "Daddy's going to have a field day with you."

Shawn looked up at her. "Daddy?"

She nodded and smiled. "He's your stylist. He really likes getting to deal with people who have pleasant features, because he also gets to fix them up after they're dead and it's less of a challenge if they were already pretty attractive while they were alive."

Shawn was saved having to think of a response by having to bite the cushion again as the final bit of leg hair was removed.

Buzz patted his shoulder sympathetically. "I know it hurts, but just let us rub you down with this cream and you'll feel a lot better."

* * *

When the prep team finally finished with him and left him alone, Shawn had a few minutes to wait for his stylist to show up. He wasn't sure what he was expecting him to look like when the door at last burst open. It definitely wasn't a balding old guy with kind of a beaky nose and baggy brown eyes, dressed in an extremely outdated (but brightly colored) suit and tie, both of which had some interesting red and green stains slopped down the front.

"Hi, Shawn!" he chirped with a beaming smile. Interestingly, the perky Capitol accent that was all the rage around here didn't sound quite as annoying coming from him. "Woody!"

"...Woody what?" Shawn asked.

"Woody-you like to have some lunch with me?"

Despite himself, Shawn let out a guffaw of laughter. The stylist joined in happily, before saying, "Seriously, though, that's my name."

"Woody-you like-wow, that's a unique name even for someone from around here."

The stylist laughed again, smacking the flat of his hand against the table. "Geez, kid, you're killing me! No, it's just Woody. Or Woodster, or Woodman, or Woodmaster, whichever you prefer." He shrugged, then hopped up onto the table, using his free hand to press a button which produced a table of food: more of that pineapple Gus had liked so much, some sandwiches on sourdough bread, and some kind of pudding.

Shawn shrugged and helped himself, finally remembering to put his robe on; Woody didn't seem to have noticed that he was naked.

"So," Woody finally said after he'd finished inhaling a sandwich and half a cup of pudding, "I've been thinking a long time about this, and decided to go with something in yellow."

Shawn looked up at him with raised eyebrows. "Yellow?"

"Yeah, it really seems like your color. With bright green lining, it's a nice contrast, will really bring out your eyes. Except, you know, they'll be closed, but we'll both know that it compliments your eyes." He stood up, walked to the wall and drew up a diagram of a human torso. "And for the autopsy stitch-"

Shawn spat out a mouthful of pineapple. "Autopsy stitch?!"

Woody looked at him in confusion. "Yeah, sorry, I probably should have told you about them first, but I wanted to see if the clothes worked for you. You can pick whatever stitch you want-I can do a nice carrot, or a flower, or if you want-" he produced pictures of each of these, and then snickered- "the last guy asked me to do a hand giving the finger, well, I assumed that's what he wanted me to do for the stitch because he-"

"So what am I going to be wearing right now, _before_ I actually get killed?" Shawn interrupted.

It wasn't that Woody's burial decisions weren't...interesting, but this was dredging up unpleasant thoughts about Shawn's future, and he wanted to shake them off as soon as possible.

Woody looked confused again, and then his eyes widened. " _Oh_ , oh, I am so sorry, I just got really excited, and thought you might like to pick your options now. But you're right, that can wait until later."

He cupped his chin in one hand, and gave Shawn an intense stare.

"How do you feel about being on fire?"

* * *

 **Some more notes:**

 ***I know the Egyptians were around far more than 'hundreds' of years ago; the ignorance here is Shawn's, not mine.**

 **Also, sorry if I'm doing anything too OOC here; I know Shawn's a bit of a shameless flirt, and that he liked Abigail for a long time, so I figured he was the sort of guy to make the most of the situation.**

 **Thoughts?**


	4. Shawn makes New Friends, Sort of

"It's _not_ funny, Shawn," Gus growled.

"Sorry, it's just-" Shawn nearly doubled over again, clamping a hand over his mouth- "I never thought-oh my gosh, that's incredible-"

"Shut up." Gus leaned morosely on the side of the chariot, scowling in the direction of the impending crowd.

"Your mother is going to have a fit," Shawn finally commented, wiping his eyes and staring at his friend again in suppressed mirth.

"You think I don't know that? Now shut up."

"If it makes you feel any better, I think being bald actually kind of suits-"

"Shut. Up."

Gus wasn't sure what kind of message their stylist was trying to give off by forcing them to wear black leather, but he knew that this, in addition to the indignities he'd undergone at the hands of the prep team, were sure to make this the most humiliating moment of his life. He sulked, watching the other tributes getting ready for their parade in outfits that he was sure were a lot more attractive than theirs.

His interest was piqued, however, when he saw the chariot from District One.

More specifically, one of the girls preening against the side of it.

He remembered, from the video they'd watched on the way to the Capitol reviewing the Reapings, that her name was Mira Gaffney. And up close (comparatively), he had an even better view of how attractive she was. Her white gown with iridescent, winglike flowy things on the back created a perfect contrast with her brown skin, which had just the faintest golden glitter splashed across it, and her long dark hair had been left to flow down over her shoulders in a beautiful glossy flow.

Suddenly she looked in his direction, and smiled, giving him a little wave.

Something fluttered in Gus's stomach, and he found himself reaching his hand up and swiping his thumb across his nose, giving her the most suave smile he had at his disposal-

"Forget it, man," came Shawn's voice in his ear.

Gus glared at him over his shoulder.

"I'm serious," Shawn persisted, "at the first opportunity she would chew you up and spit you out."

"How do you know?" Gus demanded.

With a long-suffering sigh, Shawn draped himself onto the side of the chariot next to him. "She's from District One, so she's been trained for this moment all her life, and she's developed the mindset that winning this is important above all else. Any interest she's showing in you is just to be manipulative and maybe make you less likely to run away before she sticks a spear in your throat or something."

Gus wanted to argue that A) she wouldn't do a thing like that, and B) Shawn shouldn't assume that he was going to run away instead of fighting...but then he remembered that that would require him actually needing to fight to the death, and the thought churned his stomach so he quickly went back to looking over the other tributes' chariots. This time he looked somewhere a little closer, at District 11.

"What about her?" He indicated another pretty girl-Rachael, he remembered her name was. She was kind of similar in appearance to Mira, but now that Shawn had brought it up, this one definitely seemed a little kinder.

Shawn scrutinized her closely, then shook his head. "She's pregnant. Her outfit is designed to try to conceal it, but you can see it if you look closely. And her token-" he indicated a hand-woven bracelet wrapped around her wrist- "shows that she has someone she wants to get back to."

Gus felt nauseous again. "They're letting a pregnant girl into the arena?"

"If they know about it, they probably figure it will just add shock value for the audience and make her more desperate to survive."

The thought made a lump start forming in Gus's throat, and he had to clamp a hand over his mouth, blinking hard.

"Dude, come on," Shawn growled in his ear.

"You _know_ I'm a sympathetic crier, Shawn!" Gus growled back, voice already becoming hoarse. "Just leave me alone."

"You can't do this right now! We have to look good when we go out there."

"I can't help it! It's so _sad_ , they're forcing her to go out there, when she and her child might-"

He was interrupted from his extreme chick flick (an archaic phrase their fathers sometimes used) moment by Woody and the girls' tribute, Karen, appearing next to the chariot. In Woody's hand was a match.

Gus blinked, his sympathetic pain briefly put on hold. "What's that for?"

Woody happily explained.

* * *

"Gus!"

Shawn had finally managed to wrestle his friend to the floor of the chariot, and somehow keep him pinned down. "Listen to me-it's not going to hurt you. Woody explained it to me in great detail; the synthetic fire can't hurt us, we're going to be fine."

Gus forced himself to get his breathing under control, and slowly relaxed until Shawn allowed him to get up, reassured that he wasn't going to try to leap out and run for his life again. Swallowing hard, he straightened his unitard as best he could, trying to ignore the way Abigail and Gina, as well as several other tributes, appeared to be staring and snickering at him.

"Sorry," he said with an attempt at regaining dignity. "Nobody told me that you were going to turn us into human barbecues."

"That's because you were sedated for the last few hours," Shawn (un)helpfully reminded him.

"Shut up, Shawn." He closed his eyes and waited.

To Gus's surprise, it didn't hurt at all-just tickled a little. When he finally worked up the nerve to open his eyes, he barely paid attention when the horses started moving, he was too busy staring with fascination at the flames emanating from his clothes, trying to figure out how the whole procedure worked. He remembered, in some of his mother's lessons about different kinds of plants and herbs and stuff, that certain kinds of salt could change flames into different colors, but he'd never heard about anything that could create a flame that didn't hurt you or even give off heat. What kind of chemicals could it be made of? He ran the possibilities, based on what he'd read and learned from his mother, through his mind, oblivious to the audience's awestruck cheering.

Shawn, of course, was eating up the attention like the world's thirstiest, most attractive sponge (though considering the appearance of most sponges, that wasn't saying all that much). He reached over into the back of the chariot and took Abigail's hand, lifting it into the air and creating a fresh explosion of cheering. He gave his most charming smile, waved, blew kisses and caught flowers, tossing his head and in general acting as happy as a pig in slop. But even as he smiled, his sharp green eyes darted through the stands, analyzing, finding clues...searching. Not that he'd ever admit it. Except maybe to Gus.

But there was no sign of his mother.

He wondered if she would come to see him, if she would be allowed to. After all, she had to have some sway, being a Gamemaker and all.

* * *

After the parade, Karen and Woody, with Lassiter and Trout in tow, doused the flames and helped them off the train, showering them with praise for how great they looked and how perfectly they performed for the opening ceremony.

Well, the last part was mainly for Shawn and Abigail.

Gina was told not to scowl so much, because while looking tough could be a good angle for gaining sponsors, it was also important to have at least a _little_ charm.

"And as for you," growled Trout, grabbing Gus's chin and forcing him to look at him, "look at the audience next time!"

It was the first time he had offered any real advice to any of them. Shawn felt a little relieved; he'd been meaning to point out that Trout was neglecting his duties as their escort. Even Lassiter was doing his job better.

Gus's jaw flapped a little helplessly.

"I-I-"

"You're making me look bad, Guster!" With another squeeze, Trout let go of him and stomped away.

Gus rubbed his chin and scowled after him. "Whatever, Mr. Ray-of-Sunshine."

"Let me do the nicknaming, Gus," Shawn scolded lightly as they headed back to the Training Center.

* * *

For the next three days after the parade, the tributes were expected to train. The gymnasium officially opened at 10:00 sharp, and tributes were encouraged to attend.

At 10:30, Gus had to ask an Avox to bring him a bucket of ice cold water, which he promptly dumped onto Shawn.

He smirked a little at the girly scream which his friend emitted, and set the bucket on the bedside table.

"What the heck, man?" Shawn whined, sitting up and staring in disgust at his soaked bed.

"We're late for training."

Shawn finally decided that he would rather not have this conversation while covered in damp blankets, pulling himself out of them. "Gus, we're going to be here for three days. We've got plenty of time."

"Not if you want to learn anything important. Besides, if you don't come now I'm going to eat your breakfast in addition to mine."

"You-!"

Shawn called Gus a few words Henry would have denied letting him know, and chased after him into the dining room.

Once they actually got to training, Gus found himself spending the first hour in the knot-tying and camouflage sections, same as Gina and Abigail. He spent even more time in the edible plants section, expanding his knowledge as much as possible, rehashing what he already knew to make sure he had it right. He also tried the obstacle courses a little, and even made it through some of them without completely embarrassing himself.

And Shawn?

He tried unsuccessfully to wield one of the biggest swords, then got bored and wandered around watching everyone else.

 _Typical Shawn_ , Gus thought with a shake of his head. _If something's not easy for him the first time around, he doesn't want to do it_.

* * *

Speak of the devil, Shawn was thinking about alliances, the formation of.

It seemed a little counterproductive to befriend someone you knew was going to try to kill you later, but people usually did it anyway for the short-term benefits it provided.

So far, he wasn't sure if any of them really fit his tastes.

District 1 would certainly have great fighters, among them the aforementioned Mira, but he didn't trust them. And he wasn't sure why, but he already instinctively disliked the boy who was clearly their _de facto_ leader, Declan Rand.

District 5 definitely had two promising options, who he remembered were named Lindsay Leikin and Allison Cowley, but after Allison rammed the tip of a dagger into a dummy's neck and then practically sliced its head off, Shawn decided that she wasn't his type, and Lindsay, while certainly very attractive, gave off kind of the same vibe as Mira: stab you in the back first opportunity.

He was just wondering whether to try and ally with Rachael (because while he might tease Gus for it, he didn't really want to see her or her baby in trouble either), when a spear thudded into the wall just inches away from his head.

An older girl, one of the District 2 champions, sauntered up to him and pulled it out of the wall.

"Sorry," she told him with a smug grin, "I totally didn't mean to miss."

She tapped the end of Shawn's nose with the edge of the spear and then skipped away, ignoring the angry reminder from one of the assistants that tributes were not allowed to fight each other.

"That's Yang," said a voice from right behind Shawn.

Shawn spun around and found himself looking at a smallish, sickly-looking guy with slightly faded red hair and horn-rimmed glasses. He was staring after Yang with an intensity that was just barely on the wrong side of comfortable.

"...Nice name," Shawn finally said.

"Don't you get it?" the guy demanded. "The Yang. The only child of Mr. Yin, the greatest Victor the Games has ever known." He finally looked at Shawn, who was a little disturbed now at the glare he was being given, in addition to this information. Yeah, he knew about Mr. Yin, but he'd somehow missed the memo about his daughter. "She could have entered any time during the last seven years, but they were saving her for the Quarter Quell to make it all the more special. Her family is legendary in District 2."

"You must be very proud of her."

He shook his head. "I can't be, I'm from District 3. All I can be is honored to be in her presence." He went back to being enraptured for a moment, as Yang set about eviscerating a dummy, and then said, "I'm Mary."

"...Shawn." Somehow he refrained from commenting on the... _uniqueness_ of the name.

"I know." Mary was no longer paying attention to Shawn; the latter decided to let him go back to his ogling in peace, and slipped away.

And then he saw her.

* * *

She had long blonde hair, pulled back in a sensible braid, and nicely tanned skin, and when she happened to glance in Shawn's direction he saw that her eyes were a kind of gray-blue. She wouldn't have been out of place in District 12's merchant section, honestly, but Shawn knew she was from District 4. He also knew that her name was Juliet O'Hara, and she had volunteered in place of a little girl who couldn't have been more than thirteen, who she wasn't even related to. She was also already very experienced with weapons and knot tying, judging by the calluses on her hands and the fact that she was in the fire-starting section, trying to learn something that she probably wasn't as familiar with. His interest piqued, Shawn ambled over and said, "Excuse me, you're in my spot."

Juliet gave him a level stare.

"It's our first day here, and you haven't been here once. This can't possibly be your spot."

Shawn smiled in a way he hoped was confident but actually came off as rather sheepish. "Well, it's the place that was going to be my spot. When I decided to come here. It gives me the best view of the instructions."

Juliet was unmoved, and began trying to create sparks again. "There's several other spots you can take and still see them just fine."

Shawn sighed dramatically, and plopped down next to her. "Fiiiiiine….hey, bet I can create a fire first."

She snorted. "You haven't even started yet." But he could tell the challenge interested her.

"That'll just sweeten the odds for you."

"If we're talking about odds, then that implies some kind of prize at the end. What are you offering?"

Shawn was a little nonplussed.

What could he possibly give her?

The Capitol provided more food than they could possibly eat, anything you wanted.

The only thing he had to call his own was…

He glanced at the pocket watch hanging from his belt, then shook his head.

No, even he wasn't willing to go that low.

Then he had a flash of inspiration.

"If I win, you can promise not to kill me when we're in the Arena."

Juliet's eyes widened.

"Shawn, I can't-"

"You wanted to raise the stakes. That's the biggest thing I can think of. You can promise not to be the one to kill me when we're in the Arena. That doesn't mean you have to stop anyone else from doing it, just that you won't be the one to."

She chewed her lip thoughtfully, and then gave him another one of those intense stares.

"And the reverse if I win?"

Shawn nodded.

Juliet finally nodded back.

"Deal."

* * *

 **Hopefully I didn't put too much information in here at once; I'm trying to get to the juicy stuff. Also, sorry if I crammed in too many characters at once; like I said, juicy stuff. I honestly think this is my favorite chapter so far, because it's big and it has several funny moments.**

 **I'm also trying to show more to Gus than his being a screaming wimp; I worry I've shown too much of that side, so I added more here.**

 **Final note: I'm a little stuck for who should win the fire-building challenge. Either way, though, I think it ends (spoiler alert) with Shawn accidentally setting that part of the training area on fire.**

 **Thoughts?**


End file.
